


seconds in fractions

by ultalumna (yujael)



Series: smile, goldfinch (as you look daemons in the eye) [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Assassination Attempt(s), Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Oblivious Prompto Argentum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 17:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19300228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yujael/pseuds/ultalumna
Summary: Funny, sometimes, what it takes for two people to get together.





	seconds in fractions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to crawl out of my writing hiatus and I decided to do that by filling prompts on the kink meme. 
> 
> The first one I chose was this one: An assassination attempt (on Prompto) 
> 
> "Teeechnically, there's bound to be a lot less repercussions for killing the Prince's BF(F) than any actual noble.
> 
> Filler can decide:  
> \- Motivation. Was it some bigot that hated seeing the Crown Prince hang around "Nif scum"? Or maybe an obsessed fangirl/boy that read too much (or maybe just enough) into Noct and Prompto's relationship? Idk go wild, have fun.  
> \- How successful the attempt is.
> 
> +++If at least Noctis witnesses it"
> 
> I hope I did it justice :0

The Central Insomnia Shopping Center is a pretty good place to spend a Saturday--the first free Saturday of vacation after their last year of high school, too, even if it’s one threatening rain. It’s cloudy and dim outside, but inside there’s shopping, games at the arcade, and more mall pretzels than Prompto will ever admit he ate. There’s also his best bud, even if Noct seems a little distracted. He still walks close enough to bump shoulders and brush knuckles with Prompto, though, so Prompto knows for sure he wants to be here.

“Hey, want anything to drink?” Noctis asks out of the blue while Prompto is talking about a pair of actresses he recognizes on the cases of the dvds they got solely because he thought they might be good and Noct bought them on that alone since he’s rich and good to Prompto like that. “There was so much salt in that last pretzel, it felt like I was chewing a mouthful of rock salt.”

There had been a disconcerting amount of salt, but Prompto had shaken most of it off into a trash can because he’s smart like that. Thirsty is thirsty, though, and who is he to stop Noct from spending money?

“Sure, dude. Whatcha feelin’?”

“There’s that juice place you like at the corner there,” Noct says after a couple seconds of uncertainty. He points to the floor above, where they can just see the outlets over the railings. The escalators are only a family with two strollers away.

Prompto grins--it’s not just “that juice place,” it’s one of his favourites. Before he can say anything, though, there comes a heavy hand on both their shoulders and a deep voice from behind them, “That joint’s pretty good; I heard they got a new smoothie menu.”

Noctis makes a lemon-eating face while Prompto jumps half out of his skin and skitters away from the sudden contact before he recognizes that the hand is Gladio’s and so is the voice.

“What the heck, dude?” he sputters as Gladio snickers at him.

“Yeah,” Noctis chimes in. “What the heck, Gladio?” He turns as far as he can in place without doing a full 180, and Prompto follows his disgruntled line of sight to find Ignis not far behind the living tree. “You too, Ignis? You said I didn’t have anything scheduled today.”

Ignis presses his glasses up his nose in a way that is entirely unnecessary in terms of their position on his face, but entirely necessary in terms of his show of exasperation. “I said that there were no meetings that required your attention,” he corrects. “I said nothing about your other engagements.”

Noctis makes a vague motion with his arms that Prompto doesn’t catch all of, but the gist of it is still clear. The bag in his hand, straining around the shapes of a large cactuar plushie and a much smaller chocobo plushie he got at the arcade, swings around with the motions and knocks lightly against Prompto and Gladio. Killing time at the mall, winning toys for a little kid who likes cactuars, _is_ one of his other engagements.

Gladio rolls his eyes. “Classes are out and all, but you still have training blocked out, remember?”

Noctis, having figured out how to do it years ago, groans under his breath. Prompto understands the sentiment--they could still go for some wandering, but Gladio never lets Noct get out of training if he can help it. It doesn’t look like he’s going to go willingly, though, which is always a barrel of fun, but Prompto’s pretty sure he can pull off damage control.

“Aw, man,” he says dramatically. “I totally didn’t realize. Sorry, big guy; I’ve been monopolizing him all day!” He turns to Noctis and bumps him with his elbow. “Hey, idea, though--you work off that pretzel and _then_ we get juice. Like a reward system, right?”

Ignis hums approvingly and then gives the bag in Prompto’s hand, which is hopefully opaque enough to hide the fact that there are several wrappers from the pretzel shop crumpled up with the dvds instead of just one or two, a pointed look. “That sounds like a capital idea. You also promised a few rounds with me, Noct, if you recall.”

Prompto doesn’t even need to look at Noct to know that that’s actually code for “you did not promise but I’m going to wipe the floor with you anyway.”

“You could have called,” Noct says.

“I did,” Gladio retorts. He pulls his phone out, swipes a couple times with his thumb, and says, “Your response was--” his eyes flick back and forth from the screen to Noct as he rereads the response in question, then he finally continues flatly, “--buzz off.”

Classy, Noct. Prompto keeps trying, though. “It’s always better when it’s hard-earned,” he sing songs. “I’ll be the audience. And--oh! Maybe we can get dinner while we’re out after.”

He can’t think of a better way to round off the day. Maybe they can get takeout head back to Noct’s place and pop in one of those movies, have a chill night in while it rains. Prompto holds his breath, crosses his mental fingers, and hopes Noct is down for something like that.

Noctis stares at a distant pillar for a few seconds and then rubs the back of his head in a defeated fashion. “That--uh--that sounds good, I guess.”

Prompto claps his hands together and then shoots two thumbs up at Gladio and Ignis, who give each other Looks instead of paying attention to Prompto’s victory. He’s too excited by the prospect of getting to spend most of the day with Noct, of feeling the warmth he always does with his friend, to mind. “Sounds like a plan! Did you drive here, Iggy? Did you park nearby?”

“I parked at the complete other end, actually,” Ignis says, faintly regretful. “It’s a busy day today and there wasn’t much for good parking.”

Gladio turns them all around and starts steering them toward the correct entrance. “Yeah, I thought it’d take forever to find you. Turns out we just had to follow the chocobo butt over here.”

Prompto squawks in a way that doesn’t really help his case. “Hey! My hair does not look like a chocobo butt!

“It does--”

“It looks fine,” Noctis says over Gladio. “Suits you.”

“Yeah, see?” Prompto says smugly. “Prince’s word is totally better than yours.”

Ignis, master of rolling his eyes without actually rolling them, nudges them along a little faster.

It doesn’t take long to reach the entrance that Gladio and Ignis used when they follow the flow of people, dodging busy shoppers and little kids running about. Through the glass, Prompto can see that it isn’t raining, but the clouds look as angry as ever, and so maybe it’s a good thing that Gladio brought Iggy and a car.

As they near the doors, though, the area before them almost empty compared to the corridors and shops, Prompto spots a trash can that isn’t close to full yet and breaks away from the group.

“Be right there,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ve got a couple wrappers I wanna throw out before we leave.”

“Don’t fall too far behind,” Ignis says without stopping. “The lot is a veritable maze.”

“He can just follow Gladio,” Noctis says before the din of voices and pop music washes him out of earshot.

Prompto makes for the trash bin quickly and digs out a handful of one, two, three, four, five large wrappers from the dvd bag, cringing slightly with his bottom lip between his teeth. Maybe _he_ should be the one working out. Astrals, they were so good though. No regrets.

He turns back toward the exit and bumps into someone else almost immediately, a tall man in a dark jacket. Without looking up at him properly, Prompto brushes himself off and sidles away from them. “Sorry about that!”

“Watch yourself,” the man says, quiet but sharp, his voice deep and cultured. He sounds offended, but Prompto doesn’t dwell on it. It’s crowded. Little bumps happen all the time. The incident is gone from Prompto’s mind as he pushes through the doors to the parking lot outside and pauses to search for Gladio’s broad shoulders lumbering around somewhere.

That, too, is gone from Prompto’s mind, though, when something _bangs_ behind him, cracks through the air like a car backfiring. Glass shatters and someone screams. And then _that’s_ all gone because he _hurts_ all of a sudden. His right shoulder burns, threatening to drown out all other sensations, and his shirt is turning sticky against his skin.

He doesn’t dare look down to see why because that’s when he spots Noct out in the parking lot, skidding into sight between two cars with Gladio just behind him, hand on his arm to yank him back.

That’s when the _bang_ comes again, too--when more glass shatters, and Prompto’s left leg buckles. He hits the ground like a ragdoll but doesn’t feel the pain of hitting the concrete or landing on the corners of the dvd cases. The only parts of him that exist now are his shoulder and his leg. He doesn’t register much else besides the pain, the distant sound of screaming, and the expression on Noct’s face, his eyes frozen uncharacteristically wide.

Ignis darts out from behind him. Prompto doesn’t see where he goes. Noctis is gone just as quick in a flash of light that burns Prompto’s eyes, reappearing almost instantly above Prompto and taking up his entire field of vision--which isn’t much. It’s tunnelling fast, blacks specks gathering and blotting everything out.

Noctis’ voice comes ragged and barely controlled. “Prompto!”

He puts his hands on Prompto’s face first, palms cool on Prompto’s cheeks, them moves them to his shoulders. He shifts Prompto gingerly, so, so carefully, but even that is too much. It brings the whole world back to Prompto in sharp, burning relief, and he cries out wordlessly against the pain.

Noctis curses sharply. “I’m sorry, Prompto. I gotta put pressure on it, though. I’m sorry.”

He calls Gladio and then keeps going like that, repeating his apologies over and over as he presses his hands on Prompto’s shoulder, as even denser pressure settles over the back of Prompto’s thigh. Gladio’s hands. Hands putting pressure on his wounds--on bullet holes. He just got shot. Someone _shot_ him. Someone--

“ETA three minutes,” Gladio says, his voice too gravelly and grim for Prompto’s panicked brain to skip over. He sounds worried. Holy shit. Prompto’s on the ground because someone just--and he’s--

“You’re gonna be fine, Prom,” Noctis says, drawing Prompto’s dimming focus back to him. He’s blurry, getting fainter and fainter--but he’s okay. He didn’t get hurt. Prompto was in the way. He’s fine.

Thank the Six, Prompto thinks as Noct’s desperate voice follows him into darkness.

 

||| * |||

 

Waking up is a slow, reluctant affair that involves meandering bits of confusion, a soft sensation on one side and a heavier one on the other, and feeling vaguely like a patch of garbage floating on the ocean. It brings Prompto to a bed propped up in a dimly lit room, silent but for the unmistakable patter of rain on a window somewhere behind the curtains, and alone but for a fuzzy chocobo plush tucked between his neck and shoulder--and Noctis, who’s dead asleep in a chair, using Prompto’s left arm as a pillow.

Something is attached to his right arm, something else to his finger. Prompto can’t tell exactly what because his contacts went missing at some point and everything’s blurry, but it’s enough to put the pieces together, to fit them in with the slippery memories in his head.

Having fun at the mall. Having less fun getting shot. Noctis distressed. Something. Bed. Hospital?

He tries to move, to take stock of himself without disturbing Noctis, but all it takes is two light tugs in an attempt to free his arm, and Noctis is inhaling quickly and shoving himself upright, blinking all the way.

“Prom?” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, but his eyes are hopeful.

“S’up, dude?” Prompto replies. It comes out like sandpaper, though, so he clears his throat and tries again.

Noctis releases a heavy sigh and leans back in, grasping at Prompto’s arm. “ _Finally_. You’re actually lucid this time. Way to keep a guy waiting.”

“Uh,” Prompto says. He has no idea what time it is, how long Noct’s been sitting there, and no memory of waking up before. Has it been a long time? Is it even the same day?

“Shit--I mean--how do you feel?”

Prompto takes inventory. He’s kinda floaty, but not quite floaty enough to cover how much he aches, hence the garbage patch feel. He’s also thirsty. And hungry. They didn’t get to have supper. Or smoothies. Their good day got all messed up and now--

“Thirsty,” Prompto says. First thing’s first. He’s _parched_ , but Noct’s on the job. He pushes his chair back just enough to reach a pitcher of water on a nearby stand and comes back with half a glass of water.

Prompto’s so glad he has Noct. That’s not even the drugs talking.

“Careful,” Noct says as he tips the drink against Prompto’s lips. Every sip is packed with cool relief and by the time the glass is drained, Prompto feels kind of like an actual person again. “You good?”

Prompto nods and settles back against his pillow and the plushie. “I’m good. Seriously, though. S’up. What time is it? Where…”

“Secure hospital,” Noctis answers. He glances down at something in his lap quickly. “It’s like one in the morning. Do you… Do you remember what happened?”

Prompto takes a slow breath. ”Um. I remember havin’ a good time. Then the fun police showed up. I bumped into someone on the way out and… he shot me?”

Noctis’ expression turns somber. “Yeah. Yeah, he--”

“You’re okay, right?” Prompto blurts out before he can stop. He can’t see any injuries on Noct, but his family has that crazy royal magic and the healing energy drinks. Of course he’d be fine by now.

Noctis blinks in surprise. “What? I’m fine. I’m not the one who got _shot_.”

“But the guy--there wasn’t anyone else? He wasn’t trying to, y’know…”

Noctis presses his lips together tightly and shakes his head. “No. I’m fine. Nothing to worry about here, Prom.”

Except for the way he’d looked so distraught, his voice one of the last things Prompto remembers.

“Did they get the guy?” Prompto asks, trying to tug Noct out of whatever hole he’s digging.

Noct nods and actually smiles a bit. “Specs got him. He ran off quick, but not quick enough. He’s in custody now and…” He frowns softly before continuing. “We knew him. Know him.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Well, I know him,” Noctis amends. “He’s not on the council but he’s still lord of--actually, it doesn’t matter. He’s not gonna be lord of _anything_ after all this is done. I’ll give him hell _myself_ if I have to. He tried to _kill you_.”

Something sinks in Prompto’s gut, a block of ice chilling him from the inside as he puts two and two together. He wasn’t in the way of anything--the shooter had been aiming for him the whole time.

“Why?” he croaks out.

“Because he’s an elitist little bastard,” Noctis practically snarls. “And a coward who spilled everything as soon as it looked like Iggy might get rough with him. He said--he _actually thought_ \--”

“That I shouldn’t be around you,” Prompto finishes in a small voice, sinking into his pillow and wishing it would swallow him up. It’s not the first time he’s heard something like that, but nobody’s ever acted on it like this before.

Noctis quiet immediately, the anger rising in his voice snuffed out. “Yeah. He looked at you and somehow thought you were a threat to me.” The sharpness comes back as quickly as it had gone. “Which is _bullshit_.”

Prompto would rear back if he had any space left to do so. All he can do at this point is blink and say, “What?”

“You’re my best friend,” Noctis goes on. “And one of the best people I know. If you’re a problem to me then I’m the Queen of Tenebrae--”

“You’d never pull that off,” Prompto interjects.

Noctis gestures wildly at him like he’s just made an excellent point. “Exactly! I can’t believe people like him.”

Prompto laughs tonelessly. “Yeah. It’s stupid.”

Noctis tilts his head and gives him a funny look. “Prompto?”

Prompto tries to stall, to blink a few times and see if maybe his little garbage patch self can just float on out of here, but nope. He’s not sleepy enough yet and he put himself here. He stares at the blurry line of the IV running into his elbow. “It’s just…”

Noctis leans in a little closer. “Just what?”

“I mean… about me _belonging_ … Is he wrong?” Prompto pats his hand against his leg, the best he can do while his limbs still feel kind of heavy. “I mean, not a fan of getting shot, but I’m not, y’know… I’m not nobility and I’m not smart. I’m not that good at most stuff and I’m just… Me? Y’know?”

He risks a glance up to see if Noctis _knows_ , but what he finds instead is an intense expression, the kind he rarely sees on his friend’s face. After a long moment, Noctis starts nodding, then shaking his head, the two mixing in a way that denotes straight up incredulity.

“No, I don’t know,” he says at long last. “That’s not what I think at all.” He pauses, then squares his shoulders and looks straight at Prompto, his gaze completely unyielding. “I don’t care what other people say about you. Their opinions don’t matter to me at all. You can think what you want, but you’re enough for me. More than enough, even. I mean,  _Six_ , Prompto--everything that asshole said was especially ridiculous to me because I--”

He cuts himself off, stopping and breaking eye contact so suddenly to rub his fingers across his forehead before running them down his face that Prompto is startled by the uneasy silence. For a second, a heavy, anxious second, Prompto thinks that Noct is about to backpedal, that he’s just realizing how far he’d overreached.

But Prompto doesn’t have enough painkillers in him to deal with that situation at all, and to top it off, he can’t tell if the low light and blurriness are playing tricks on him or if Noct is actually blushing, so he swallows thickly and asks, “You what?”

Noctis hunches in on himself a little and says, “Okay, you’re hopped up on painkillers right now and I’m not supposed to work you up, so it’s okay if you don’t want to deal with this right now, but…”

Here it comes. The thought comes no matter how hard Prompto tries to shove it down.

“This whole day,” Noctis says carefully. “First weekend after finals, spending the whole time doing whatever…” He takes a deep breath before finishing with the last words Prompto expected to hear: “It was supposed to be a date.”

Prompto blinks through the ensuing silence. Then he blinks some more as his heart tries to reach out of his ribs, pressing back hard against all his attempts to squish it back, hold it where it _belongs_.

“What,” is all he manages to say.

Which is fine because it’s all Noctis needs to start rambling.

“It was supposed to be a date, except I chickened out and didn’t tell you about it. I’ve been trying to do it for literal months. Iggy’s so sick of making spicy food every night. I told Gladio to _buzz off_ because I was working up to bringing up the date thing. I was _just_ about to--but they weren’t supposed to show up and you--you weren’t supposed to--you--”

He doesn’t make a shred of eye contact as he rambles. He still doesn’t when he folds himself down even further, grasping Prompto’s hand like a lifeline. Like he’s the one in the bed needing medical attention.

“Got shot?” Prompto offers.

Noct’s shoulders stiffen, but he finally looks back at Prompto with an expression approaching apologetic. “Yeah,” he says. “But you’re gonna be fine. And--like I said, you don’t have to, uh, say anything right now. I just wanted to get that out in the open and… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Prompto’s glad, too. For a lot of things. His heart rate has almost certainly gone up, but if the monitor has deemed it a problem, it hasn’t triggered the appropriate response yet. Prompto doesn’t want it to, either. If a nurse comes in and messes this up he’s gonna fight an Astral in the mall parking lot.  

He’s getting tired now and he’s still very much on something to keep the bulk of the pain away, but he can still put two and two together. Noct willing to spend the whole day with him, or as much as he can claw back from his responsibilities. Buying movies just because Prompto thought they might be good. Getting plushies just because Prompto pointed them out. Suggesting Prompto’s favourite cafe. Giving in to Gladio as soon as Prompto mentioned  _dinner_ \--

“Don’t worry about me, Noct,” he says slowly. He manages to lift his arm out of Noct’s grip to clumsily pat the chocobo plushie next to him. “Iggy chased down a criminal for me and now I’ve got drugs and good company; I’m okay.” He drops his arm back to his side, letting his hand fall squarely on top of Noct’s. “And, like… I dunno when they’re gonna let me outta here, but when they do… Do y’think you’d still be up for getting dinner? Maybe watching one of those movies?”

Noct’s face is carefully blank at first, but then, slowly but surely, a smile spreads across his face, broad and genuine and everything Prompto loves to see. Everything Prompto _loves_.

“Yeah,” he says, speaking barely louder than a whisper. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

He stands up and leans over the edge of the bed, keeping one of his hands underneath Prompto’s while he uses the other to brush Prompto’s bangs aside. The kiss he presses to Pompto’s brow in their place is careful and gentle.

“Get some more sleep, okay?” Noct says as he settles back into his chair.

Now that he’s tired again, Prompto kind of doesn’t want to drift away yet. He wants to stay up with Noct and pretend they’re having a late night at home instead of in the hospital. He wants to bask in the confirmation that, attempts on his life aside, he’s exactly where he belongs.

But Noct isn’t going anywhere. He’ll be here again. So, Prompto nods and closes his eyes, lets the warmth enveloping his hand and the ghost of Noct’s lips on his brow lull him to sleep.


End file.
